He was led out by the valet, O’Brien, the two of them exchanging Irishisms as they went. Ravenna watched discreetly from behind the curtain, and when the pair approached James, when Paul flashed a clumsy smile, Ravenna fairly cringed in expectation of what might happen, should James decide to lose his temper.
As it turned out, nothing happened. Paul climbed into the stallion’s saddle, and he must have taken riding lessons at some point in his city life because he had no trouble keeping up with James as they galloped across the lawn and disappeared into the woods toward Dartmouth.
When Sarah came to fetch her a few moments later, Ravenna couldn’t help asking her questions. “So where did Lord Broughton take Killiney this morning? They had an appointment?”
Sarah glanced at her mischievously. “You miss m’lord already, don’t you?” Shaking her head, the maid led Ravenna to the bedroom, saying, “They only went to town, m’lady. Somethin’ about muskets an’ a merchant ship.”
“They won’t be gone for more than a day?”
Sarah’s eyes were bright with amusement. “M’Lord Broughton specifically asked for tart with his supper, an’ if I’m parin’ apples for the carters an’ wheelwrights an’ not for m’lord…If he doesn’t come home, m’lady, he’s got another thing comin’.”
With Sarah’s manner so informal, so completely unservantlike as she set to laying out her mistress’s clothes, Ravenna didn’t dare ask another question; what sort of mess might she get herself into? If she didn’t recognize a footman’s name or an eighteenth-century turn of phrase—if she couldn’t even dress herself properly in those skirts Sarah piled high on the bed—what would Sarah do? Tell Lord Broughton that not only Killiney, but Elizabeth, too, was now suddenly loopy?
She restricted her answers to nods when Sarah began to ask insinuating questions.
“So,” she said, and she gestured for Ravenna to slip out of her dress, “since I’m not gettin’ a proper report outta you, m’lady, I trust you slept well?” The maid winked knowingly. “Was Killiney’s bed firm enough? His mattress a nice, big comfortable size, I’ll wager?” There was a grin in Sarah’s cheeks, an undeniable familiarity to her words, and she had to be Elizabeth’s friend with such a tone, didn’t she? Servants didn’t talk to their employers like that.
But the maid wasn’t through. Helping Ravenna to put on the new dress, Sarah said something so offhanded that it almost didn’t register in Ravenna’s mind. “But he’ll still set sail in two months, won’t he? Just like m’lord, thinkin’ he’s a sailor.”
Hearing this, her heart went still. She’s talking about Vancouver’s voyage—the voyage that took Killiney’s life.
She hadn’t thought of this, not yet. Her fantasies, her romantic delusions seemed criminal now, knowing as she did how Killiney had perished. Shot dead by Indians. His body never recovered. Paul couldn’t possibly go with James, and in what? Two months, Sarah said? If he did, he’d die in Killiney’s place, and how would Ravenna prepare him to avoid that?